


The Demon Hours

by shinysparks



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Demons, Horror, Kid Fic, Nightmares, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/shinysparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy battles the demon within him as night falls...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a chat I once had with [](http://railise.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**railise**](http://railise.dreamwidth.org/), this is my attempt to form a headcanon backstory for Guy. Thanks to the lovely [](http://thymelady.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://thymelady.dreamwidth.org/)**thymelady** for betaing this. More notes will come in subsequent chapters, because woo boy, will I have some explaining to do... O_o

He says a little prayer before bed, kneeling on the floor as he did when he was a boy, begging for forgiveness of the sins of the day. It’s different now, though; he’s not the innocent child he once was, and his sins are so great that he’s not even sure that God is still listening to him at all. Everyone else had forsaken him, giving up on him since he was young, believing him unworthy of being redeemed; therefore, why not the Almighty? He always managed to push those thoughts away, telling himself that there was always a shred of hope; that his soul, despite its darkness, may one day yet be saved.

His many sins confessed, he adds a brief request at the end: “protect me from the demon who haunts me,” he says at barely a whisper so no one would hear, “and free me from this evil.” Crossing himself, he speaks a quick “amen” before pushing himself up off the floor. He takes a few steps over to the door to make sure it is locked, then shutters and locks all of the windows; he double-checks them all, to make sure that no one can see in, and that _he_ cannot get out. A precaution, just in case...

Stripping off his linen undershirt and his trousers, he tosses them both over the back of a nearby chair. He then pulls on a pair of loose fitting britches before blowing out the candles in the room, one by one. He leaves the one candle on his nighttable burning, illuminating the room with a flickering yellow light that casts strange, dancing shadows on the lightly plastered walls. Giving a brief shudder, he walks - almost tiptoeing - over to the bed and sits down carefully, sighing with dread.

He eyes the steaming cup on his nighttable, the apothecary’s supposed remedy for his so-called “sickness.” Leaves of catnip, flowers of chamomile and lavender, berries of hawthorn and a little valerian mixed with mead that tasted strongly of honey - he wasn’t the least bit fond of the concoction and questioned its effectiveness. Yet, each night, he made himself a cup, and drank it down in hopes that maybe, just maybe, it would put his demon to sleep for the night.

Night was the only time his demon reared its evil head, and for that, he had always felt truly blessed. Hidden away behind the locked doors and windows of his bedchamber, beyond the prying eyes and eager ears of all who knew him, he could fight the evil that had tormented him for years in secret... in the dark... alone. He cracked a pained grin, before taking a sip of the warm, sweet liquid of his remedy. By day, he was a man so feared because of his dark deeds that most kept their distance from him. If only they'd known... known about the demon that attacked him in his slumber. The professed "respect" they'd given him would be gone at a moment's notice, and he would once again find himself in the same predicament he faced as a boy...

He takes another drink, gulping the remainder of the liquid down and sits the cup on his nighttable. A loud yawn and a deep sigh later, he begins to feel the calming effects of the remedy. It always did make him quite sleepy; however, this night, he is kept awake by fleeting worries from his past, and his future. When the King returned to England - _if_ he returned, of course - Marian would become his wife. She would join him in his bed, and she would no doubt see the evil he'd been trying to hide for nearly three decades. _Will she still believe there is good in me,_ he thinks to himself, his eyes blinking slower and slower as the remedy takes hold, _when she learns the truth?_

"If only I'd never chased that wolf..." He mutters quietly, yawning once more. "If only..."

Reaching over, he quickly pinches out the candle, engulfing the room in a near pitch-black darkness; save for a few fine rays of bright moonlight that filter in through the cracks in the shutters. A chilly Autumn breeze seeps though those same cracks, and he shivers, both from the wind and from the gloom. Rocking back and forth almost drunkenly, the lull of sleep quickly overwhelms him and carries him away into the black. He falls backward, asleep before his head ever hits the pillow.

The demon hours have begun.


End file.
